Compulsion
by Infinity Reasons
Summary: Jill's been kidnapped. Sydney's belief in the Alchemists is slowly slipping away. One girl is out to seek revenge for something that happened close to a decade ago. And the only person who really knows what's going on - is someone that no-one can afford to trust.
1. 1: Up All Night

**Chapter 1**

_Up All Night_**  
**

Water splashed up onto her face, cool and refreshing. Two hours of ballet was harder than it appeared, and it gave her tan cheeks a pleasant flush that made her look a little more…human. Unlike most dhampirs, her looks set her apart from the students here at Amberwood Prep. Maybe it was the strange feline beauty of her features – the way her eyes curved up her face ever so slightly, almond shape tapering into a point, her delicate nose, or those teeth that were strangely sharp. She had the looks of Moroi; except there was something else there, something they didn't have that she did, and she tried not to think _why _she had it. But it was always lingering in the back of her mind, firing nightmare after nightmare at her, taunting her to try an escape it.

That was why she was here, she reminded herself – someone had to pay, and she knew exactly who.

"Abigail."

Jillian Mastrano Dragomir was such a sweet and innocent person that it was impossible _not _to fool her. It was her friends that were much more of a worry; the Alchemist, the two dhampirs, and that spirit user, the Ivashkov.

"What's that on your neck?" she sounded genuinely concerned.

The other girl let out a sharp gasp and pushed her sleek, dark hair over her shoulder to hide the scars on her neck. There were two of them – two tiny little puncture marks that only someone with the eyesight of a Moroi would have been able to see. And what was more of a problem was the fact that Jill recognised what it was; the marks that came from being bitten over and over again.

"Nothing," she grabbed her blue ballet tote and made a run for the door, trying to get out of here before Jill could question her further.

"Abigail –"

The door slammed shut with a loud bang, leaving Jill standing there, wide-eyed with worry. As far as she was concerned, Abigail was just a pretty girl in her ballet class that had no connection whatsoever to the vampire world – and then she had been standing in front of the mirror, the scars on her neck painfully obvious. Was there another vampire at Amberwood?

* * *

She took the shuttle bus back to her dorm room, receiving a long, hard, judging stare from the Alchemist as they passed each other in the corridor. So Sydney Sage knew. It wouldn't be long before the whole of their close-knit 'family' knew about the marks on her neck – that meant she had to step up her schedule. Tonight was as good as any other night.

She had her own room, only two doors down from the dorm shared by the redneck dhampir and the Dragomir Princess. It was the perfect spot, and it also allowed her the freedom of tonight being her night. If she'd been too far away, the plan would have gone sideways, as would her hope of ever achieving it. No, this was fine. Everything would go to plan.

She changed clothes into something that the Alchemist wouldn't be caught dead in, a loose singlet and a pair of ripped denim shorts that had gotten more than enough wear out of them already. They'd been reputable enough when she'd bought them, but now they were practically ragged shreds of fabric. It wasn't her fault that she had no money and no time to go shopping, unlike most of the girls here at Amberwood Prep, armed with daddy's money and a knack for never completing their homework. Unlike them, she had to keep up the appearance of a 'scholarship student'.

Tying her hair back made her mind slip into its usual dark place as her fingers slid over the smooth white scar tissue on her neck. They were the fault of someone she hated more than anything in this world – and tonight, that person would move closer and closer towards justice. _Think of that_, she told herself. _After tonight, you can begin to move forward, to do whatever the hell you plan to do with yourself after this is all over. _

Homework was unnecessary tonight – she wasn't planning on coming back her anytime soon – but it was something she did then to occupy herself until the time came. It also helped keep the nerves away, struggling away through complex maths problems that she didn't understand anything about.

It also brought one a.m. much sooner than she thought it would come. Slowly, she raised herself from her chair and changed into something more practical; a pair of skinny jeans, a warm jacket (because in the desert, the nights were freezing), and some mid-calf combat boots, in which she placed a knife in the pocket formed between the fabric and the leather. She packed all the essentials into the bag she'd had at ballet earlier, and then pushed into under her bed so that it was hidden by the overhang of the sheets. The last thing she did before she closed the door was measure out a clear liquid into a small syringe.

She walked down the corridor, savouring the moment. This was what revenge – at least, the beginning of revenge – felt like. Satisfaction.

It was a surprise of see Jill answering the door instead of the dhampir. The girl's green eyes went wide and she glanced back at a sleeping Angeline, and then gently closed the door behind her as she was beckoned out into the doorway.

"Abigail?" she whispered incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

Abigail looked around, feigning suspicion.

"Not here," she murmured back. "My room – it's safe there – _they're _not listening."

Jill did exactly what she was supposed to – she followed Abigail into her dormitory.

"Who are _they_?" she said, her voice still soft.

_Come on, just a little closer..._all Jill had to do was lean in. And that's what she did; she took one step closer to Abigail to look at the scars, and then in an expertly executed move, the Moroi had an arm around her head and there was needle in her throat. Piece by piece, everything was falling into place.

* * *

It was in the morning when Sydney Sage finally switched on her phone to receive a text that froze her very being. A text that came from Jill's number, except it sounded nothing like the person in question.

___Alchemist –_

___Today, Jillian Mastrano Dragomir disappeared from her dorm room at one thirty a.m. and was never seen on the premises of Amberwood Prep again. You are going to do exactly as I say and no-one get hurts._

___Firstly, you are going to read every word in this message very carefully. You must not tell anyone at the school that she is missing; they have no record that a Jillian Melrose ever attended this school, and none of the attending staff will remember. What you will do, though, is visit the apartment of Adrian Ivashkov with Jillian's two devoted dhampirs. You will then proceed to alert the royal court of the young Dragomir Princess's disappearance. Once they arrive, give them this message:_

___"You do not know me, and I hope that we never cross paths. After this, I will disappear forever and never come back. I do not wish for you to try and find me when this is all over._

___My demands are simple. All I ever wanted is the same thing that your laws are supposed to bring about – justice. Except, your legal system has no justice and the worst criminals of our world are left in a jail cell to reflect on the sufferings they have caused. They may not have hope, but they have something that has been taken away __by _them_; life_._ I__ believe in an eye for __an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Thus, a life for a life._

___The only thing __I __want in return for the Dragomir Princess is the execution of one of the worst criminals of our lifetime. I will give you back the Princess when I have proof of their death._

___And you __will __give me what I want, because I have the one thing that could create the downfall of law and order in the Moroi community. One dead for the survival and continuation of Moroi. That is a price that you can afford to pay, and it is a sacrifice that you _will _make."_

___-S_

The Alchemist barely remembered the hours that ensued. Eddie drove her and Angeline to Adrian's, she knew that much. She also knew that when she got to that apartment, the time they spent waiting for the guardians and the Moroi to arrive was time in which she avoided all eye contact with Adrian. When they did arrive, the weight of what had just happened came crashing down on her.

"Sydney, what the hell happened?" Rose Hathaway managed to make that sound a hell of a lot more sympathetic than it would usually come across.

"I-I don't know."

Sydney wasn't calm and in control anymore, and although she was still dressed for a business meeting her hair had been tied up in a messy bun and her makeup was non-existent. Her nerves were everywhere. She was jumping at the smallest shadow. Her stomach was turning somersaults whenever she thought about Adrian. She wasn't the stellar Alchemist that everyone thought she was, she wasn't the Alchemist that separated her feelings from her job. Then, she remembered what the email had said. Once they arrive, give them this message. So she did.

She disentangled herself from the centre of the group and pushed her way into the bathroom. It was a miracle that the party of hundreds of Moroi and dhampirs weren't spilling over the edge into here, but it was a lucky thing for her – it was the only place in the whole apartment where she could actually hear herself think. There was a steady drip-drip from something somewhere in this bathroom and it was actually kind of calming; because it was the same, and it was constant, and it was familiar.

"Sage."

Oh, God. Anyone but him – anyone but Adrian Ivashkov, and she would have been fine. Going as far as saying she would have preferred a Strigoi to walk into this room rather than him might have been an exaggeration, but there was a roomful of guardians outside…

"Leave me alone, Adrian."

"I've never seen you cry before," he murmured.

The fact that she had a tissue clutched in her hand, her eyes were red her face was blotchy really contradicted her next words, but she went for it anyway.

"I'm not crying," she insisted, her voice full of tears.

She turned around to push past him, but all of a sudden he was there, right in front of her. All she'd have to do to touch his chest is reach up, he was so close, and she could feel his breath, see the muscles underneath his white shirt – he was too close, though, uncomfortably close. Those eyes of his were looking straight down at her and piercing into her soul, filled with forbidden emotions that rooted her to the floor.

"Even you know that that was the worst lie you've ever told," she wished he'd stop speaking like she was made of glass, like she was going to shatter at any moment.

She opened her mouth to reply, but his hand drifted and made her breath hitch into her throat, savouring the moment until –

"Adrian!"

Someone was calling from down the hall and Sydney took the opportunity to jump away from him and ignore the chills that were still running through her shaking body. Rose stuck her head through the crack that had appeared when she'd opened the door.

"We need you to try and reach Jill," she explained. "Some of the guardians are trying to track down where that email originated from, but they're probably long gone by now."

Sydney didn't know how blind someone had to be not to see that Adrian's whole demeanour had suddenly changed when she'd walked into the room. His fist was white, clenched so hard against the frame of the window and his jaw was square and tight.

"If they're able to get Jailbait out of Amberwood Prep without anyone noticing, do you think they're going to be stupid enough to let Jill sleep?" he snapped back. "She's either drugged or she's being kept awake deliberately. Spirit's no secret anymore, not to the Strigoi, not to anyone."

Rose opened the door a little wider so that she could slip into the room, and she stood there with her arms crossed, her face narrowed in thought. She nodded once, as if she agreed with what he said.

"You think the Strigoi took Jill?" to her, it looked like a real possibility.

Everything seemed so cut and dry to her – good and evil was a clear line, as obvious as black and white. If anything bad ever happened, the Strigoi would be behind it because, well, in her experience, they were always behind those awful Sydney's world, it was a different story; she had grown up with the black and white, as sure as Rose had. In these past few months at Amberwood Prep, she'd begun to learn that there wasn't just a simple divisor between that kind of thing.

Her father had taught her to believe, like any good Alchemist should, that dhampirs, Moroi and Strigoi were evil, and it was their job as Alchemist to clean up the messes they made. Because, although they were evil creatures of the night, it was better that only Alchemists knew about them. _Think of what would happen if humans were offered the chance of immortality, of an eternity on Earth with no foreseeable ending. __So many people would sell their souls to the devil – literally – and then our race would be overtaken by the selfish want of forever that us humans possess,_ her father had told her_. __It is our job to make sure that that never, ever happens. We keep order in a world that is so delicate; the slightest thing would tip the scale._ It wasn't a line; it had never been a line. Moroi and dhampirs weren't evil, and they did not threaten the existence of humans. They lived and they breathed and they had feelings and emotions like everyone else, like Alchemists, and yet her people had decided to class them as bad, as beings that had no good in their heart.

Pure evil only came in the form of Strigoi. They were Moroi taken to the extreme, and _they _were unnatural creatures. Life revolved around the idea of light, and their world was so dark that they could not possibly be alive – Strigoi were the undead.

But evil was in the hearts of everyone, kindled or otherwise, and it was waiting for an opportunity to rear its ugly head. There was much more wrong with this world than simply Strigoi, and there was much more evil in the world than them too.

"The message said the teachers wouldn't remember anything about Jailbait? Compulsion – I bet you, if we walked over there and asked them right now, they would have that glazed over look on their faces and hazy memory that you get when you've been compelled. The use of "S" for Strigoi, and the fact that she was taken in the night; they can't stand the daylight," Adrian shrugged. "Sounds like Strigoi to me."

"What about the note, and the lack of violence?" Rose countered.

"And what about," Sydney butted into the conversation, and they looked at her in surprise, as if they'd forgotten she was there.

"What about the continuous use of '_I' _in the note? What about the fact that they managed to sneak into Jill's room without alerting Angeline? What about the fact that they want you to execute a guilty person? Don't they usually want that kind of person to cross over to the dark side? Huh? This is a person who wants vengeance not violence, a person who wants justice not the collapse of the Moroi government."

No-one had ever heard Sydney Sage speak like that to _anyone _before; she was the type of person that could simply never say no and never be rude. She was proud to say that it kept them suitably grounded for oh, maybe, three seconds? But for once, it felt good to speak out.

Both Adrian and Rose chased after her, Rose reaching her first with superior muscularity and years of training. There was a new level of respect when the dhampir looked at her – or maybe she was imagining it – but all the same, she received a nod of approval.

"Here's your phone," Rose didn't say anything else.

Sydney wasn't sure if there was a hidden compliment behind her words, but she didn't have time to think it over because Adrian appeared right in front of her as Rose walked off to join Dimitri and a few other guardians (inclusive of her mother) to discuss the pressing issue at hand.

"About before –"

The look on her face cut him off before her words did.

"Nothing happened, Adrian; I hope you understand that," she was back to how she always was, responsible, put together. "Nothing ever _can _happen because it's wrong. Humans and Moroi _do not _mix."

Some part of her wanted to protest against those harsh words; and most importantly, _all of her _wanted nothing more than for Rose to never have barged her way into the bathroom like that. It just made the Alchemist in her feel better, to have defended her morals and her beliefs, when everything else about her told him that it was all a lie.

If she stayed near him like this any longer, she was going to break – so she walked away, finding comfort in the fact that she was surrounded by people who didn't make her feel like Adrian did.

* * *

When Jill came round, the world was fuzzy and not quite in focus, and there was a strange roaring her ears. Like the ocean…except, not quite.

A few more blinks confirmed that it was an engine, not the ocean. The engine belonged to a silver sedan that was so sleek and fresh that Sydney would have been jealous; it even had that lingering scent of new car in the air, one that was unbearable for her Moroi sense of smell. The seats were leather and it was hard against her skin, and her seatbelt was a choking restraint, pressing her back against her seat. Finally, she managed to push her stiff, sore, aching body into something that resembled a sitting position, all the while asking herself why it hurt so much to do so – and then remembering what happened.

Abigail was driving. She had her foot pressed hard down on the gas pedal and was zooming along the freeway, pushing the speed limit so far it was a surprise she hadn't been pulled over by the cops yet. Jill cursed herself for not having seen it sooner; the fact that Abigail was a dhampir. The girl had gotten a lot from the looks department in relation to her Moroi parent – light, golden-brown hair that glowed if it caught the sun at the right angle, and frosty ice blue eyes that were so iridescent they looked like dragonfly's wings. She had a curved jawline and a heart shaped face framed by her hair that had today been pulled back in an ever practical ponytail. And there, on her neck, were the two small puncture marks that reminded Jill of a vampire bite. In fact, it probably _was _a vampire bite, considering Abigail was a dhampir.

"Where are we going, Abigail?"

"Oh," Abigail laughed, looking over at Jill with a smile. "It's Summer."

The Moroi frowned and glanced out the window, taking in the clouded grey sky and the clear lack of sun that usually hovered perpetually over Palm Springs. She doubted they were actually anywhere near Amberwood Prep anymore, though.

"No it's not," she replied, confused.

The other girl grinned, taking her eyes off the road again.

"My name," she said. "My _name _is Summer. Not Abigail."

"Oh."

Cue several minutes of very uncomfortable silence, in which Jill fiddled with the radio station and ended up turning it off again when there was nothing good on. This, she decided, was the least violent and serious kidnapping ever – there were no handcuffs, no duct tape, hell, she could just take off her seatbelt and drop right out of the car if she wanted to. Not that that would be a good idea; Summer was driving so fast that hitting the tarmac alone would take off several layers of skin.

"So where _are _we going?" Jill finally asked.

"Well, I was tossing up between Nevada and Arizona," Summer spoke in a conversational tone, as if they were friends, not as if she'd just abducted Jill. "But Arizona's closer and I was tired so it looks like we're going there. I've always wanted to go to Phoenix."

"It's still an interstate drive," the Moroi pointed out.

Summer smiled and shrugged, and continued to apply heavy pressure on the accelerator, swerving to avoid a car that was chugging along at about a quarter of a speed that she was. She ducked in and out of lanes, driving in such a way that she would have been a perfect Hollywood stunt artist, if she'd ever considered the job. It was inevitable, then, when a police car finally came speeding after them, sirens blaring and its tires screeching to keep up with them. Sighing, as if it were more of an annoyance than anything, she pulled the car to a sharp stop on the side of the road, and Jill started to formulate a plan.

"Can I see your license, ma'am?" the police officer asked, leaning in the window.

"You have to help me!" Jill shrieked. "She's abducted me! She took me away from my school, Amberwood Prep, and she drugged me and now I don't know where I am!"

It only took a minute, but his gun was drawn and he was yelling instructions at Summer to step out of the car, _slowly_, and place any weapons that she had on the ground. His face turned a shade of vibrant magenta – it looked like the most exciting thing that had happened to him in a while.

"Sir, look at me," she said calmly – he did. "There is no way she's been abducted, officer. If she had been, she'd be in handcuffs and I wouldn't have pulled over for you; _and _she wouldn't be riding shotgun where everyone can see her."

He nodded vaguely, putting his gun back into his holster, and sent a smile Summer's way.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am. Now what about that license of yours?" he raised one eyebrow at her.

Jill thought that she smirked, although it was hard to tell because of the way Summer had angled her face, straight towards the policeman.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "You don't need a license. It's a freeway."

He nodded again, a frown passing over his features, and he reached in and patted her on the hand.

"No," he mumbled. "No, I suppose you don't."

And then they were off once more, the tyres still screaming in protest as they raced across the road, dodging in and out of traffic. Jill stared at her incredulously, green eyes wide.

"You need your license _everywhere_," she gasped. "It's the law. I know that, and I'm not a police officer."

Everything else about Summer's smile was genuine, except the frozen look in those icy blue eyes – a warning. She might as well have said, _don't mess with me, bitch. I can do so much worse to you._

"I guess I was just lucky," she simpered.

That drive stretched on and on, Jill sending furtive glances to the driver every now and again, wondering how she'd talked herself out of needing a license. Some things it was possible to do that with – like parking tickets – but some laws were _laws_. They were rock solid and unchangeable. Police officers didn't let things like that go; especially the ones that spent their days cruising up and down a freeway, hoping that _this _would be the day they'd find something exciting.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey. **

**So this is my take on what happens after "The Golden Lily". I'm definitely going to be continuing the Sydney/Adrian plotline, if you're wondering. Anyway, not much else to say...tell me what you like and you don't like in a review, please! Thanks c:**

**-Infinity**


	2. 2: Fight For You

**Chapter 2**

_Fight For You_

By the time they arrived on the outskirts of Phoenix, the clock in the sedan read quarter past eight. They disembarked from the car at a shabby, disreputable little motel with one of those tacky neon signs outside that read 'vacancies', except the light behind the e had died. Summer kept a watchful hand on Jill's arm, as if daring her to run away – which she had done, when the engine had been brought to a stop and Summer was busily rifling through something in the boot. She didn't get more than five metres before she was tackled to the ground with the utmost ease, as if she weighed nothing, and a harsh warning was whispered into her ear. She didn't try it again. If she was going to get out, she needed to surprise Summer by doing something far more adventurous than anything she'd ever attempt. The only problem? She didn't know what was.

They had rooms on the third floor, which Jill discovered after trampling up three flights of rickety and steep wooden stairs, so splintered that they stuck in her shoe. There was no lift, and there were only two rooms that joined onto each other; thankfully, the doors locked. Judging by the looks of this place, they didn't get very much business from those in the legal professions.

"This is your room," Summer told her.

It was hardly a room. There was just enough space for a single bed and a tacky plastic desk and matching chair. Off to one side, a door led into the ensuite bathroom; a toilet, a sink, and a shower that didn't work. Jill swore up and down that she saw a rat scuttle across the floor when they stepped into the room, but the light was uncertain and it was hard to make out anything.

"My room is right next door," Summer continued. "If you want to try and escape, don't bother – you won't be able to get out. If you want anything else, don't ask me, because you sure as hell don't need it."

Jill nodded dully, trying to prepare herself for the _thought _of so much as touching the sheets on the bed; she was sure they hadn't been changed in a couple of months, and as to whether they'd ever been washed…who knows? She was silent right up until Summer made her way over to the door that connected the rooms.

"Why are you doing this?" Jill asked, her eyes still trained on the bed. "This isn't how you kidnap people, you know – there's supposed to be handcuffs or duct tape and high speed car chases and continuous drugging. If you wanted to hurt me, you would have, _could have_, done it already."

Summer froze, her hand clutching the doorknob.

"I don't want you," she replied slowly. "You're the bait."

"The bait for what?"

Wasn't this the point when she started refusing to answer questions, by saying that _she _asked the questions here? Apparently, it wasn't. But it wasn't as if she wasn't being careful; she only told Jill _exactly _what she wanted the Moroi to know.

"There was a person, Princess, who once hurt me very much – and what they did, can never be repaid. What I went through because of them is something so unimaginable that it would not be in your worst nightmares; so you are here and you will remain with me until the Moroi court orders the death of this criminal," she picked her words carefully. "When that is done, you can return, and once that is done I will be gone from your life forever – I might be a bad dream to you, but I have treated you fairly and well. Don't underestimate the safety you are in under my protection. Remember that, Princess. I am a better guardian than any of your trained entourage."

"My guardians don't drug me and then drag me off from my school, where I am perfectly happy, mind you, and take me to Phoenix," Jill shot back.

"No," Summer smirked. "No, I suppose they don't."

* * *

When Jill woke up – well, woke up in her _dream_ – she was at Adrian's apartment, trying not to wince at the distasteful colour of the wall. The minute she saw him walk through the door was the minute she realised she was in a spirit dream.

"There you are, Jailbait!" Adrian exclaimed. "I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to reach you. I thought they would have drugged you!"  
She shook her head.

"I _was _drugged, for a little bit…now I'm fine. I'm sleeping – well, obviously," she corrected herself.

He sat himself down on one of his ugly second-hand chairs, spreading himself across it in an 'I-couldn't-care-less' kind of way. There was still a faint look of concern pasted over his face, as he searched her for any sign of torture or maltreatment.

"Where are you?" he asked. "It's crazy over here. I'm hosting the Moroi court in my living room and trust me, there's not enough space. All of the guardians aren't going to sleep until they've delivered you safely back home to Amberwood Prep."

"Phoenix, Arizona."

Adrian made a face that illustrated his disgust much more than words ever could. If you were going to travel around a desert, why not go to some place exciting like Las Vegas or Los Angeles?

"I'm at this little motel on the outskirts – it's called Queenly Accommodations. And take it from me, _I'm _the one putting the 'queen' in Queenly," she added as an afterthought.

He allowed himself a little chuckle; Jill was not the kind that generally made wisecracks like that. That was more his territory.

"So you escaped? From the Strigoi?" he pressed. "Jailbait, when you get home you're going to tell me –"

"I'm still being held captive," she interrupted. "Just in a...much nicer way than I imagine Strigoi could manage. This girl – a dhampir – she was hiding in our school, and I don't know why I didn't spot it earlier; she had all the pointers. Her name's –"

And just like that, the connection was shattered, the whole dream disappearing into darkness and his words lost in static. The interruption must have come from his end, because her world was completely fine, and she was still in a sort of dreamless sleep.

That's when she heard the scream.

* * *

It came from downstairs, and it sounded like the shady-looking desk clerk who'd greeted them on the arrival and handed them a key, no questions asked, had run into some trouble. Jill was still blinking sleep out of her eyes and yawning when Summer dashed into the room, fully dressed and breathing heavily, as if she'd rolled out of bed only seconds ago and had already been prepared.

The next thing she did was check the windows, pushing back the curtains slightly. Jill was surprised to see the black sky stretched out gloomily for eternity, a few brave stars scattered across it haphazardly and a sliver of moon hanging hauntingly in the corner. Really, how long had she been asleep for? Apparently, a very long time, according to the glaring green lights of the digital clock that she'd been pretty sure was broken when they'd walked in this morning. Now, it read close to midnight.

"How could they know?" Summer's words were whispered, but Jill's acute hearing picked up on them.

She blinked at the dhampir curiously, wondering what Summer was going on about, until the brunette rounded on her suddenly, fiercely, her eyes narrowed in anger. Jill hated to say it, but...Summer looked almost _Strigoi_.

"You idiot!" she snapped. "You tried to communicate with your spirit-using friends? _Idiot_!"

Jill's expression must have said it all, because Summer rolled her eyes impatiently. Honestly, how had this girl managed at Amberwood Prep so long and stayed _alive_?

"Strigoi are the undead, Princess," she went about the room, switching on all the lights she could – even artificial, it still dazzled those creatures for a moment, a moment that could buy precious time. "They need the essence of the living to get by – blood – so they need to be able to _sense _when there is life about. They feel everything about them that is living, so they can already sense the fact that you and me are living, but spirit...that cursed element _is _life. Spirit is like a massive force of life, a ball of brilliance that attracts Strigoi from far and wide. Whenever you use spirit it's like saying, _"hey! Over here! There are some nice tasty Moroi in Phoenix." _Some things don't use much spirit at all – healing, for instance – but long distance things like a dream between cities...we've just invited a couple of the toughest Strigoi alive to Queenly Accomodations, because they're the ones that survive in the _freaking desert_, a place that's sun, sun and more sun. I hope you're happy."

"I didn't know that," Jill said quietly.

"Dammit, of course you didn't."

Summer didn't say anything else, instead preparing herself for the fight that was about to come bursting through the locked door. It didn't stand a chance against the might of the Strigoi, but anything that could slow them down was good.

She had a silver stake gripped firmly in one hand, something that Jill only just noticed – and it was much more ornate than any of the ones she'd ever seen. Swirling patterns had been carved into the shining silver, and on the flat side something that resembled an enormous sun had been drawn. The inscription was hard to make out, but it read:

_Power. Resilience. Endurance. Light._

Absentmindedly, Summer's fingers traced those words, words that she'd long ago memorised. Words that, long ago, she'd carved relentlessly into this silver in an attempt to hide from reality. She was still calm and expressionless when the door broke into a million little pieces and two Strigoi stood there, faces drawn and pallid, the red in their eyes gleaming scarlet.

There was a man and a woman – probably a hunting pair. Strigoi felt no emotions, nor did they believe in any concept that resembled love. Most love did not last all of eternity.

The woman was tall and had a hooked nose that dominated her face. Cropped red hair hugged close to her scalp and she had the sort of chinless face that fell away into neck without much distinction at all. The vermillion of her eyes clashed violently with the sandy red of her hair.

Where the woman was ugly, the man was solid. In his past life, he must have been a dhampir – because he was much more heavily built than his companion and much more heavily built than any Moroi ever was. He also looked like he'd been trying to fulfill someone's storybook idea of an evil scientist, right down to the lab coat (it was tan and not _actually _a lab coat, but it was only a step away) and the miserable attempt at a scruffy goatee on his chin.

"Kristina," the man leered, "is that...?"

"...Princess Dragomir? Yes, Richard, I believe it is," Kristina finished his sentence for him.

Summer moved so fast that it took all of their Strigoi reflexes to avoid the onslaught of offensive moves that came their way. It took only a matter of seconds before she outsmarted Kristina with a feint to the right and drove the stake straight through her chest, wincing as she let out a ghastly shriek, then collapsed to the floor.

Whilst she was distracted, though, the man grabbed her leg and twisted her down onto the floor. She grunted in pain, winded; and Jill watched in horror as the Strigoi's fangs approached Summer's neck, coming closer and closer –

Right at the last moment, she twisted to the side, swinging her leg round to knee him in the stomach. Rolling out of the way, she searched for the silver stake only to see it embedded in the body of the red-haired Strigoi. How had she missed that? If she'd moved to the _other _side, she could have grabbed the stake on her way up, and she wouldn't be standing here now empty-handed and weaponless. Then a thought crossed her mind.

_Not _entirely _weaponless_. The Strigoi was lumbering over, moving with the least grace she'd ever seen one move, and she reached down into her boot and searched for the knife, pulling the hilt out so that it wasn't visible and the only person who knew she had it was her. Her hand secured around the handle, she remained crouching until he was just the right distance away. Then, she squinted, pulled the knife out, and fired.

She didn't have time to aim properly, but the knife hit its mark pretty well. She heard the crunch of a bone breaking as the blade buried itself in the guy's chest, and judging by Jill's obvious shock, the Moroi heard it too.

There was enough time for her to launch herself straight at the Strigoi in one of the most ill-thought out moves ever, and make a wild grab for the stake as she crashed to her floor. Thank God that her hand closed securely around the handle, and thank God he was so surprised that he didn't react in the breath-stealing seconds that she yanked the smooth metal out of the other body. His eyes widened in horror as the stake plunged into his chest and he let out one last, shuddering gasp.

Summer quickly detached herself from the strangling arms of the Strigoi and dusted herself off, as if that had been something incredibly trivial for her. She grasped her stake, took Jill's hand and led her into the adjoining room, where she carelessly tossed the stake on top of the other things in her blue bag.

"Let's go," her tone showed that there was going to be no argument. "They know you're here."

Whoever _they_ were – the Strigoi, or the Moroi and the dhampirs – was open for interpretation. Jill reckoned it might have been the latter.

* * *

Summer was careful to conceal the whereabouts of their next location. When they arrived, it was dark, and it was some nondescript little inn far beyond the outskirts of Phoenix that was certainly not one to advertise its name. It was a pleasant surprise to Jill when she discovered that it was a little more upscale than Queenly Accommodations, and it actually had a functioning shower as well as a bath, but Summer somehow managed to make it seem just as gloomy and prison-like by attaching locks to the doors so that Jill couldn't get out whilst she took a shower.

"The woods around here are crawling with Strigoi," she casually dropped that statement before she closed the door – just so she knew that there was no way Jill would even _try _to escape.

At least the sheets were clean and the bed was decent – after a couple of hours of travelling, her body ached everywhere, even in places that she didn't know she had muscles. The car might have been new, but it wasn't new _and _comfortable. She didn't get the luxury of both.

* * *

A team of guardians arrived at Queenly Accommodations on the outskirts of Phoenix, to discover the motel eerily quiet. Rose Hathaway led the team, gesturing for silence upon their approach. Something wasn't right, she could feel it; maybe it was a scent, or the whispering breeze that didn't belong in the desert, or perhaps a shadow that fell in the wrong place. But whatever it was, _something _was wrong.

Eddie Castile joined her at the front of the group, giving her a nod to serve as a greeting. With one simple action of the hand, half of the group split off and went around the back whilst the two of them and several other dhampirs headed quietly in the front door, their sense of unease increasing as the door opened without the need to turn the knob, swaying and creaking in that odd desert wind.

The third sign that something was definitely wrong came in the form of a dead human body with one very definite vampire bite mark on its neck. Blood had pooled out and was now clotted and dry, but it hadn't been stopped before it covered practically everything on the desk and dripped hesitantly onto the floor. Her stomach tightened as she saw how little respect the Strigoi had shown for their victim, and it was the first time in a long while that she'd actually been affected by a body. Her post as Lissa's guardian required her to stay within the boundaries of the court – most days, she missed the fieldwork.

"Search each floor," she instructed, barely raising her voice above a whisper. "There are three, two rooms on each, six rooms in total. Eddie and I'll take the top."

The first door they came to was nonexistent – or, rather, it lay shattered on the floor in the form of hundreds of tiny splinters. Two bodies, neither of them Jill, and, on closer examination both of them Strigoi, had been discarded near the entrance. The woman had been cleanly staked without much of a fight, but the man was very much worse for wear, with an enormous purple bruise emblazoned on the side of his face. He, too, had been staked.

Clearly, killed by a pro.

Killed by a pro with resources; stakes didn't come cheap.

Rose went on to examine the room – the covers on the bed were rumpled up, as if it had been slept in, but on that half of the room towards the window there was next to no damage. Everything was, she assumed, as it had come.

Except tucked neatly under the bed was a phone, a phone that looked very similar to the one that Jill had possessed; and that was because it _was _Jill's.

Jill, smart Jill, had been clever enough to leave them a message. She knew they'd come here looking for her, but she also knew that by that time, she and whoever was holding her captive would be long gone. So with the utmost caution, she'd chanced a photo of the person who'd been stupid enough to let her have her phone back, and then typed one coherent word beneath it – the other word she'd tried to write was a muddle of letters that were impossible to decipher, obviously typed in haste. That word was _Summer_.

"Rose?" Eddie's voice was uncertain. "Come and have a look at this."

She was quick to respond, dropping Jill's phone into her pocket and crouching down beside where Eddie knelt. In his hand he held a simple knife that had been left in the body of one of the Strigoi.

"Careless," she remarked.

"Or maybe the actions of someone in a hurry to leave," he suggested. "There could have been more Strigoi coming. When it comes to them, you don't have time – you just have to act on your instinct."

She nodded in agreement, biting back the comment that almost came flying out of her mouth unchecked; _I've been doing this longer than you have_. That would have been unfair. He'd proved himself a worthy guardian time and time again, but still, he'd been kept at the sidelines of everything.

"Still," he continued, carefully turning the knife around so he was holding the blade. "Whoever it is could have left prints all over it – we might be able to identify them."

She surveyed the knife grimly.

"No need," she said. "I have a picture."

"How –?"

"Jill."

* * *

The guardians received the call almost immediately after the rescue party had left Queenly Accommodations, bearing bad news. Jill and her kidnapper had taken off at the first sign of trouble – the appearance of the Strigoi – but not before the kidnapper managed to take down two of them. It turned out the retrieval party had been left a gift by the Moroi Princess; a photo of her abductor.

"I know her," Sydney told them. "That's Abigail."

"Abigail _who_?" Janine Hathaway was not one who skimped on details.

She made it her business to know everything that she needed to know, and failing to notice something, in her eyes, was sloppy.

"…uh…Kremley? Kremlen? Krezlin? Something like that," Sydney frowned; she couldn't actually remember that much about Abigail. "She was in Jill's ballet class. Yesterday, we – I mean Jill – noticed something strange on her neck. A vampire bite, ma'am, or at least the scars of one. We tried to talk to her about it, but…she didn't want to say anything."

There were a few disapproving murmurs on behalf of the gathered guardians; according to most of them, _talking _never solved anything. It was the action that really made the difference.

"And why wasn't this reported?" Laurel arched her eyebrow severely.

"We were going to, ma'am," Sydney insisted. "We thought we could look into it first, so as not to cause you the trouble."

"The _trouble_, Miss Sage, is that you have lost a Moroi Princess who is right now the _only thing _that is keeping their government from collapse. There's a delicate balance between being annoying and being responsible, and failing to report an incident which possibly involves _another _vampire being at the school…that's downright _irresponsible_," the older Alchemist made a condemning noise. "I've heard great things about you, Sydney Sage, and I have to say that _this _is not your finest hour."

"Agreed, ma'am."

Because, being the good little Alchemist she was, Sydney had to agree with everything – at least verbally – that her superiors said. It was not her place to question their ideas, something that Adrian would do very well to realise, judging by the head shake he gave her as he caught her eye, lounging on one of his chairs. Tempting as it was, she didn't pull a face. In the presence of so many other Alchemists and guardians, it certainly wouldn't have been a great way to demonstrate how well she distanced her personal life from her work.

"How many dhampirs called _Abigail _do we have in our records?" Laurel asked another Alchemist, who was busily tapping away at a keyboard.

Just in case of an emergency, the Alchemists had a database of every dhampir, Moroi and Strigoi that they knew of. From what Sydney gathered, it was very comprehensive, although she herself had never had the privilege of using it.

"Age?"

"Late teens," she offered.

The Alchemist at the computer scanned through the list.

"In the area, we're showing for six Abigails," he reported, "…and none of them look anything like the Abigail in the photo."

"A fake name," Laurel concluded. "Run the picture through the database; see if we've ever photographed her. In the meantime, let's respond to our mystery dhampir's ransom message."

* * *

The Moroi was asleep by the time she'd showered and changed, and she now stood guard by the door, the only thing keeping her awake a cup of tepid black coffee. That, and the fact that she was angry.

When she was younger, she'd learnt how to sense when the Strigoi were coming – there was always a slight chill in the air, an odd silence and something that made her feel almost nauseous. Tonight, she'd felt nothing. She already knew they were coming, but it was bad news for the future. What would she do without that sixth sense of hers? She _needed _it; she relied on it to survive. It was the only reason that she sat here today, as the sunlight poured through the window. She would have been dead – or worse, Strigoi – a long time ago.

Sighing, she focused her mind back on the present. For now, her only aim was to keep Jill alive until the guardians and whoever the hell made decisions about ransom for kidnapped Royals got back to her. She didn't know what she'd do and where she'd go after this; her sense of purpose in life would be gone, and she had nothing that resembled a home. Her life would be better, though, and she'd get by. She always did.

As if someone somewhere had read her thoughts, her phone buzzed, signifying she had an email. _Please, let it be them. I just want to get this over with_.

It was.

_ "S",_

_After much deliberation, the Queen and her council have come to the conclusion that we will accommodate your request – the death of a criminal in return for our Princess._

_However, it is against the ethics of the Moroi government to put anyone, unless they are or aspiring to be a Strigoi, to death. Thus, the guardians will personally escort said prisoner to your presence and let you do as you wish. Name the person that you wish to have in return and we will try and fulfil your request._

_Laurel Davies_

_Alchemist_

Smiling, she set down her coffee on her lap, carefully balancing it so as not to spill anything, and replied to the email that had probably taken hours to get word perfect. She didn't care for the formalities that they had used in their response. What concerned her was getting what she wanted.

_Her name is Tasha Ozera._

_I think you've heard of her._

_-S._

* * *

**Author's Note: Next chapter we'll learn a bit about Summer's back story, because trust me, it's _very _interesting. Anyway, please review with your thoughts. **

**-Infinity**


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